Queen of Kings (Rewritten)
by LoveToday15
Summary: I can take being tortured. I can take being betrayed by my family, I can take watching people I love suffer- as long as I know who's doing those things. But when the villain is unknown? When someone is ruining my life without revealing themselves? That is something I will not stand for. - Full Summary Inside, rewritten for TVD season 4- T for language
1. Chapter 1

**Queen of Kings:**

**The hardest thing about being immortal was how fast you could lose track of time. Yeah, I know it sounded ridiculous. Or maybe that statement only applied to me—perhaps other vampires didn't feel that way. Either way, that was the only explanation I had after waking up on the porch steps of a vampire Hunter's home with no memory of how I got there; and no memory of the past year of my life.**

****** I used to think I could face _anything, _as long as my best friend was by my side. But how could Damon trust me after all the lies I've told him?**

******I can take being tortured. I can take being betrayed by my family, I can take watching people I love suffer- as long as I know who's doing those things. But when the villain is unknown? When someone is ruining my life without revealing themselves? _That _is something I will not stand for. I will rip this town apart until I know who took a whole year of my life away from me. **

* * *

******If you've read the Original story, you're probably thinking about how different it sounds... and I know, it sounds a bit more confusing. The simple version of the plot is about how Isabella has lost a year of her life without knowing what she did or what happened, and someone is still stalking her. She's also still in Mystic Falls for Damon and has a hard time adjusting to his strange life he built there... especially with his love for Elena and Klaus's involvement in the town, and how he knows more than he should about Bella. **

* * *

**This is the first chapter of the new story... tell me what you think :)**

* * *

It's hard to say how I woke.

The air smelt of dug up earth, grass, clear air. Daylight burned against my eyelids. My cheek was pressed sharply into an edge of wood.

My mind was disturbingly empty.

"She just moved!" Voices burst through my head. My heart kicked into gear and I stayed tensed, still.

"Shit—shouldn't we call boss?"

"I'll go!" Three voices called at once.

"She's wearing one of those rings."

My hand automatically clenched in response, hiding it. There was a tense silence as I opened my eyes slowly.

"Holy shit."

"The vervain!" One of them hissed. That got me out of my sleepy state. I sprang up—or tried to. My arm pulsed in pain, and I realized belatedly they had already shot the vervain through my arm. I fell on my knees in front of four men. They each grabbed onto me. Panic shoved a broomstick up my spine and I straightened, overpowering the vervain moving through me like poison, throwing punches and kicks in every direction.

"Ah—shit—"

"Grab her!"

"Bitch!" My head snapped back and my world spun crazily, a pain resounding through my jaw. A groan escaped passed my lips and I shook my head, trying to stop the world from spinning. The men dragged me toward an old, brown building.

A new rage tore through me and I snarled, leaping up to bite into the nearest neck. The blood was soothing—until I noticed the burning aftertaste of vervain. Okay, that was stupid of me. I was punched again. This time I allowed the darkness to take me.

* * *

I knew what woke me up this time. Gunfire. The sound resonated through the ground I was lying on, and very familiar shouts and groans made me open my eyes to see what the chaos was about.

"I said let her out!"

A shaky laugh escaped me as I rolled onto my back. Last time I heard the Ripper's voice, he was cracking my head against a brick wall. Which was... yesterday?

Impossible. I had been in Chicago, watching the Klaus and Stef duo from afar. It was Summer...

I sat up, blinking and rubbing dust from my eyes. I stared at my surroundings before speaking. A fan blew in vervain throughout the room, sending everyone rasping and coughing. I was on a dirt floor in what looked like a barn, an old one at that, but with reinforced steel cages, I knew immediately just by staring at them. I stared down at myself. I had never seen the clothes I was wearing in my life.

Except for my shoes. I had seen them in magazines.

My top was short, no sleeves, and satin. My pants were tight and high waisted—made of _leather. _And my shoes were platforms. I was dressed like a hooker.

I was born in the 19th century. Dressing like a hooker was something that went completely against my morals. And I couldn't even remember putting these clothes on—I couldn't remember anything. Stefan had slammed me against a wall... in Chicago... and that was it.

"You look like you're in pain," I said to Stefan. He glanced up, eyes widened, taking his hand away from his bloody leg. "Ripper." I added.

"Bella? What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. A hoarse laugh escaped me.

"Same thing you are, Stef. I just love passing my time, sniffing vervain and starving in a barn that smells like horseshit." I laughed again, because really, what kind of question was that?

"No, I mean what are you doing in Mystic Falls?"

Mystic Falls? I hadn't been here since I was turned. I had avoided this place even when Damon had told me about the fun he was about to have here... which reminded me of Damon. He was the one who told me Klaus and Stefan were in Chicago, and how he was going to meet me there if I wanted to see him... and I had. So I waited, and Stefan found me...

I stood up as a deputy walked up to my cell. I was still shorter than him, but I wasn't about to let him see me helpless on the floor. I bared my teeth at him in an imitation of a smile. He blanched. I stifled a giggle.

"The boss wants to know who you are." He said stiffly. He held onto the gun in his belt, trying to intimidate me with it. He flinched when I gasped.

"You mean he considers me a person?" I asked with widened eyes. "And here I thought we were only beasts in the eyes of humans."

He thought I was joking. He was waiting for me to laugh, and when I didn't, he shifted uncomfortably.

"Unless you want a bullet in you, tell me who you are."

"Now, is that how the deputies of Mystic Falls talk to their civilians?" I asked innocently.

"You're no civilian," the deputy snapped. "Now answer me."

"I was a civilian _long _before you were, officer." I purred, smiling.

He fired. A stabbing pain went through my lower leg. I grunted at the impact, and then grinned at him, smiling through the burning pain. It was something I was used to. "_Ugh_, that feels good. You can do it again, if it makes you feel like a man." I opened my arms. "Do it, sweetheart. I bet using that gun on a girl is a _real turn on._"

He glanced at the door uneasily.

"I will shoot this whole round in you if you don't answer me."

"Honey, I'm answering you. No need to get aggressive because you don't like my answers." He stayed still. I sighed, and took a closer step to the bars. He stepped back. "Come back when you're not afraid of me. Then I'll take your threats seriously."

He aimed for my heart. In a lightning speed motion I was honestly proud of, I ducked—

Not fast enough. The bullet sliced through my forehead, and in a rush of warmth and pain, I had time for one more thought.

_Surely Damon would save me. He wouldn't fail me this time._

* * *

I woke to Stefan shaking me, and the scent of blood pressing in on me from all sides of the room. Sitting up, I eyed the blood on his fingers and the wooden bullet he must have pulled from my forehead, then the body of the deputy on the floor with the crushed skull, blood seeping over the floor.

"What happened?" I rasped. Stefan looked away guiltily, then met my eyes again as I sat up.

"I did what I had to." He held out his clean hand to help me up. I slapped his hand away as I struggled, then stood on shaky legs. For a second, the barn was upside down, before the dizziness passed. It was night, I realized, and cold. "Damon's outside." Finally. An end to my crazy and confusing day. Damon would have my answers. Relief rushed me. "But he's with Katherine..."

Time stopped. The air must have been sucked out of the room, because suddenly I couldn't breathe, and all I could think of was the beautiful girl from 1864, who had compelled and manipulated me, held my family against me, threatened me... all while smiling at me, whispering lies in my ear.

And now Damon would know the truth.

Stefan was stifling a smile.

"You're lying." I realized. Katherine was still hiding from Klaus. She wouldn't come to Mystic Falls.

"See for yourself," he gestured to the door. I narrowed my eyes at him—and then blurred into the night, letting go in the bliss of running with the wind.

I stopped when I saw Damon wasn't alone. Yes, he was facing me, and a girl with long brown hair stood with her back to me, in front of him.

He didn't see me right away. Slowly, his eyes widened, and recognition lit his face up.

"Bella?" Immediately, he crossed the distance between us and put his hands on my shoulders. I kept my eyes on Katherine. She stared at me in confusion.

Did Damon hate me? Surely she told him everything by now. He must hate me. He wants to kill me.

Tears filled my eyes as I focused on him. He was still taller than me, eyes still piercingly blue, black hair still styled. Leather jacket, as always. "I'm sorry." I whispered brokenly. I didn't look at Katherine. She would be grinning at me, mouthing, _Little Bella, _behind Damon, winking secretively... only now, it wasn't a secret.

But I couldn't lose Damon.

"I'm sorry!" I blurted, going on before I could lose my courage. "I didn't betray you. I had no choice—well, I did have a choice, but I chose the wrong thing in the end—" My breath hitched and I stifled a sob. "I'm sorry." I repeated.

"Bella... I have no idea what you're talking about," Damon's eyes lit up in exhilaration, and he grinned, laughing a little. "Tone it down on the crazy, Bella," his arms went around my waist, so tight I couldn't breathe for a moment.

I didn't hug him back. I stared at Katherine, standing behind him, who still looked confused... He put me down, looking confused himself. "What's wrong?" He frowned.

I stared. He didn't look betrayed or angry at all, not in the slightest upset. He looked happy to see me... and Katherine was looking between us with downright confusion, frowning like she didn't even know me.

"What game are you playing?" I asked her with suspicion. Her frown deepened. Was she going to keep it up? Pretend she never knew me, play along with the lies I had told both boys all these decades? "Why aren't you saying anything?" my voice rose in anger.

There was a silence so loud while Damon shook me hard.

"Ah, shit—Bella, this is _Elena."_

Elena. Her name came with distant memories, of Damon telling me Stefan had fallen for Elena Gilbert, in Mystic Falls. Before, we had laughed, because of his sick obsession with Katherine, we thought. How he must have came to Mystic Falls to fall in love all over again, trying to be the good guy, all over again.

And then he kept in contact with me, telling me about Klaus, and Stefan giving himself up for Damon's cure, and he wanted to see me... and we were going to meet in Chicago... which reminded me of seeing Stefan...

Elena's name also came with rage in my mind—rage at Stefan.

"That _bastard!" _I squeaked. Stefan let me believe Katherine was here, knowing how much I hated her; how much I used to _fear her. _But to both boys knowledge, I had never even met her.

"What?" Damon sounded confused.

I must have been hard core PMSing today, because I threw my arms around his neck as elation rushed through me.

"I _missed _you!" I whispered in his ear. "Stefan told me Elena was Katherine." I unwound my arms from around his neck as Damon glared.

"He s_aid _that?"

"I'll deal with him later." I smiled at him.

"I know you will," He nodded, before looking at me more seriously. "You look like hell. And we have a lot to talk about." His voice turned hard in anger. "We need to seriously talk. But..." he glanced behind him at Elena, who stood awkwardly, leaning toward us. I flinched as I looked at her, not getting that last image of Katherine out of my head. Smiling, she was always smiling at me..."We should get you home." Damon said to Elena. He walked back toward his Camaro and got in the driver's seat, and I smiled a little at Elena.

"I'm Bella."

"Elena..." she replied, a little weary.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you, but your little boyfriend told me you were Katherine." I said bitterly. "Take any complaints to him."

I walked around to the passenger seat and shut the door behind me.

"Be nice." Damon said stiffly. I shrugged, nodding. Elena shut the door behind her as she slid into the back.

"I can be nice." I said back.

The ride was fairly awkward... but all that diminished when Damon asked me what had to be his most burning question.

"Why are you dressed like a prostitute?"

* * *

**DPOV:**

He never understood women.

Some days were good—some days he understood them a little, sometimes even saw their side to things—and then something weird would happen, leaving him reeling and confused.

Today was one of those days—a mind reeling and confused day.

Damon didn't think he was going to see her again. The first few days she was gone, he had called Bella repeatedly, expecting her to pop out of some alley in Chicago with a smile that could melt ice, yelling, 'Gotcha this time!'

But women... he could never understand women.

"I'll, um..." Elena faltered, fingers gripping the door. Damon turned in the driver's seat to face her. "I'll see you later, I guess."

"Yeah, sure." Damon nodded. Elena stared at him for a moment longer before leaving. Damon glanced over at Bella, slumped in the seat with her cheek pressed against the window, sleeping like a baby. He half expected her to start drooling.

When they were young, he used to jump on her bed to wake her up—until she fell over and hit her head on the nightstand, resulting in a concussion and three stitches. She still had the small scar at the corner of her eye. He chuckled, before waving at Elena and driving off.

He wasn't kidding when he said she was dressed like a prostitute. She didn't look like herself at all.

Bella never really changed. She was always youthful, smiling, always looking happy... even when she wasn't. She was just that type of person. But now there was something behind her eyes.

He always admired her. She never grew bitter, despite the torment she was put through. She always stayed on the bright side. And yet... all those years of torment and torture seemed to catch up with her. He could see that pain behind her eyes; he saw the weariness... had she finally cracked? Stefan used to say she would. They both believed she would, after they found out what happened with her family... there was no way a person could stay sane after what happened.

But she did. And she stayed sane, and sometimes she went off on her own and began a new life, and there were years they didn't speak to each other, but that was just Bella. She never stayed to the same routine for too long.

Last time was different. He dared her to watch Stefan and Klaus, and she jumped at the chance. She was texting stupid things, saying _the big bad duo, drinking at noon! Can you say midlife crisis? _And he would burst out laughing, looking stupid in front of Elena. Then Bella would text, _OMG, they r pimpin it out in big black SUV. Oops, did I just remove the fuel pump fuse? My mistake!_

And then... nothing. She never replied to his calls, she never texted him back. She never told him before she left for a new

life on a whim, but this time was different—he had genuinely panicked at the thought of Klaus finding her. It was part of the reason why he took time to distract Klaus from Stefan talking to Elena that night, just to see if he _knew _something...

"Mmm_ffmmh." _Bella groaned in her sleep before shivering. She brought her hand up, wrist flashing in the oncoming streetlight, s_parkling—_the car swerved wildly, jolting them both in Damon's shock. Her wrist smashed into the glass of his window.

"Mmffh, s_hit." _Bella groaned as Damon stopped the car on the side. They were on a deserted street.

Everything was silent for one second. Bella's wrist was bloody, but beneath it—he could still see the bite mark. She opened her eyes groggily, staring around, confused. Damon reached for her wrist, pulling it toward him.

"Hey!" She protested, but didn't pull back. The blood disappeared as the cut healed... but not the scar beneath it. It was a bite mark. A white bite mark.

"What the hell happened to you?" He whispered. Bella leaned forward, frowning, before a she gasped sharply. She stared at her wrist in confusion, and a thousand things flashed across her face—confusion, frustration, anger, _fear... _before resting on confusion.

"I don't know." She whispered back. "I don't remember."

* * *

**Please leave a review :) **


	2. Chapter 2

"_You must set a good example," Lady Charlotte's voice was deep, and heavily accented. She turned around; bending over her large skirts to pick up her case, and Damon poked his tongue out at her back. I stifled a giggle. _

"_The little children will always be watching you—especially Stefan," Damon's mouth moved with her words, soundless and impersonating her, wagging his finger at her and using a fake stern face. His hair hung over his eyes; impatiently, he blew it out of the way, in a perfect imitation of Lady Charlotte's habit. A choked laugh escaped me. _

_She stood straight, whirling around._

"_Is something amusing you, little Isabella?" She demanded. I scowled at her. I hated it when people called me little. Lady Charlotte smiled gently at me, patting me on the head, before handing Damon and I two large books, titled, '_How to Write like a proper Gentleman.'

"_I'm not a gentleman!" I cried. She frowned, kneeling down in front of me to pinch my cheeks. Angrily, I jerked away from her. _

"_Won't you like to be as smart as Damon, little Isabella?"_

"_I am _not _a gentleman." I crossed my arms. _

"_Ignore the title, child," Lady Charlotte said hurriedly. "Open the book."_

"_No!" I yelled at her. I threw the book on the floor. "I am _not _a gentleman!"_

_The Lady flinched and stood straight, glaring at me. "Children! Such brats these days! I will talk to your father at once, little Isabella. How would you like that? Would you like him to strike you?"_

_I fell silent, a furious blush creeping up my cheeks as I glared at her. She turned around, muttering something about 'ungrateful children.' I didn't understand her, and I didn't want to. She was the brat. She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Damon and I alone._

"_Look," Damon whispered. "Watch me." He picked up the book I had thrown, and with a look of concentration I often saw on Father's face, he picked up the thick pencil on the table. With a sharp, jerky motion, he scratched out the word 'Gentleman' on my book, and above it, wrote the word, 'Lady.' He presented it to me with a flourish, and a face splitting grin. I smiled, taking it and looking over it. The writing was shaky, but I could read it clearly. _

"_Thank you, Damon. I can't believe she thinks I'm a gentleman."_

"_You don't look like a gentleman." He squinted, staring at me. "You're wearing skirts," he pointed out. _

"_She must be blind, then." I said adamantly, nodding. "Why would Mr. Salvatore give us a blind tutor?"_

"_Father might be convinced she can see." He shrugged. "Shall we tell him his tutor is blind?"_

"_I dare you to tell him." I grinned._

"_No way!" He shook his head firmly. "You tell him. He would never be angry at you."_

"_Why, because I'm a girl?" I demanded. _

"_No! Because everyone believes you. You just open your eyes like this," he leaned toward me, widening his eyes, "and everyone believes you." _

"_That's not true," I disagreed. "Mother didn't believe me when I told her you broke her vase!"_

"_But that's because she _saw _you break it. Trust me, Bella. You say anything you want, and all adults will believe you, as long as you give them that look."_

"_Except for Lady Charlotte." I sulked._

"_Who cares for Lady Charlotte?" Damon stood, throwing his book to the floor. "She cannot see you!" I laughed at the fool of himself he was making. He pulled me up, letting my book fall to the floor. "Hide and seek in the woods?" He offered._

"_With Stefan!" I yelled, following him as he ran through the house. He threw open the back door, and we let it bang shut behind us._

"_Last one there is a rotten egg!" He shouted back to me. I screeched my outrage._

"_You had a head start!" I called._

_Ahead of me, the 9 year old boy twirled around, poking his tongue out at me—and then darted back into the woods._

"_Don't be a sore loser!"_

"_But what about Stefan!" I shouted. He never replied._

* * *

"That's impossible." Damon paced the bedroom in front of me, looking angry and confused. He wouldn't stay still, no matter how many times I told him to.

"It's not impossible." I said tiredly, yawning. I held my wrist up to my eyes; I was lying on the bed, waiting for Damon to be satisfied with his pacing to leave me asleep. My wrist still held the bite mark. Sure, it was healed—but there was a _mark. _A mark! A vampire not fully healing? Unheard of. We never bore scars unless we had them from before we were turned.

"Maybe I should ask for a witch so I can access my memories?" I asked him.

"The only witch in this town just conveniently _lost _her power yesterday." He snapped. Damon being grumpy came with the mornings, unfortunately. I had a feeling this time, his grumpiness would last.

"Stop being such a grandpa," I groaned, pulling a pillow over my eyes. "I want to sleep."

"_I _want to know who... bit you. And you've slept enough, Bella. Get up." He was beside me suddenly and ripping the pillow off my face. I groaned again, clutching for it, but he tore it in two, allowing feathers to fly in the air. One landed in his hair and I giggled as they fell around me. Damon glared hard, mouth tensing... before he laughed, white teeth flashing. I grinned at him.

"See? That wasn't so hard. You smiled!" I reached up to pluck the feather from his hair, then slumped back in bed. "Now let me sleep."

"Bella." Damon's voice was hard. "Tell me again what you last remembered."

Sighing, I rolled over on my stomach, burying my face in the pillows. I was barely keeping it together. I couldn't remember...

"You told me to meet you in Chicago, and you said I'd be meeting Elena." I sighed again and faced him. His eyes focused on mine intently, like he was a lie detector or something. "And you told me Stefan had gone to the dark side again and I should tell you what he was like before his little girlfriend met up with him again."

"She's not little," Damon squinted at me. I burst out laughing at his serious look and reached up to ruffle his hair.

"Well, you'd know, right big guy?"

He... flushed. A small red tinge appeared to his cheeks, and he looked embarrassed. He turned away from me, reaching up to fix his hair as he resumed pacing. "Go on."

"I saw him and Santa in an Escalade." Damon stopped and turned to face me, squinting again. Rolling my eyes, I went on, "Cadillac Escalade, SUV?"

"I know what it is, hurry up." He interrupted.

"Fine, fine. I took out the fuel pump fuse, genius of me, might I add. But Stefano saw me, so I ran. I ended up in an alley three roads down and behind some bar. He found me, demanded to know if you were following him, and when I took too long to answer, he slammed me back into the wall. I hurt my head the most..."

"That was almost a year ago." Damon stopped pacing and stood in front of my bed. "He never told me he saw you."

"Duh. He was 'ripper Stefan,'" I made a claw motion with my fingers.

"He's pissing me off lately." Damon growled.

"He's the little bro," I replied. "He's always going to be pissing you off. Tati's the same—"I choked off abruptly as I realized what I just said. "She _was _the same." I corrected.

"There's going to be a memorial for the council members who blew up yesterday." Damon changed the subject quickly.

I groaned.

"I suppose I have to go,"

"Probably," He nodded. Sighing and looking exhausted suddenly, he sat on the edge of my bed and put his head in his hands. "It's been a crazy week."

"Elena's transition isn't your problem," I said to him. I couldn't see why he kept thinking about it, or why he felt like he _had _to have a say in her situation. "Stefan's not about to let you help her in any way unless he approves—and Stefan's approval is like, trying to get a mother in law to approve—takes a life time and in the end, it's not even worth it."

Damon laughed, looking at me and rolling his eyes.

"Would you hurry up and get out of bed? I want to show you around town."

A sense of queasiness swept through me. I was putting that little exhibition off, but I had to do it sometime. I didn't want to see what became of my hometown, how modern things had ruined it. I had a strange feeling when it came to travelling—some places hold history in the earth beneath your feet; history you can _feel. _I had avoided Mystic Falls for a reason. I didn't want to feel my past all over again.

"So what do you do for fun around here?" I asked Damon as I got out of bed. Like a little girl, I had been carried to my bed last night and slept in my clothes—these bloodied, shot, hooker clothes.

"I drink." Damon said bluntly. He was staring down at me before snapping his eyes back to my face again, shaking his head. "It's been a _stupid _week."

"Well, I'm sure my presence will lighten things up." I smiled and patted his hair as I walked passed to my armoire. I pulled out fresh clothes; a navy blue sweater, black jeans and boots. "I'll be right out," I said to him as I walked into the bathroom.

I had always avoided going to Mystic Falls, that was true, but when I gave Damon a suitcase of my clothes and ordered him to put them somewhere he could remember, I didn't expect him to set up a whole room for me. I had homes around the world—mainly in Europe, but every few states in America I made sure I had a place to crash. I wasn't like most vampires; I didn't live in extravagance and hoard things I would never use. Mostly everything I had was basic.

"If anyone talks to you," Damon said as we walked through the confusing halls of his house, "just—"

"I don't need advice," I whined. "Don't talk to strangers, look both ways before crossing; we got those speeches already. I don't need a repeat."

He opened the front door and ushered me out toward his Camaro. We both got in the car, and after a few minutes, we were driving through the streets of Mystic Falls.

"I was the one who told you those things because you weren't listening to the nanny." He objected.

"Well, it was dumb advice to begin with. You can hear a carriage coming from a mile away. I wouldn't have had to look both ways."

Damon tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, seemingly ignoring my statement. After a moment, he glanced sideways at me.

"You hungry?"

"Depends what's on the menu," I smirked at him as I looked around through the windshield. The people were comfortable here, walking through the streets calmly, waving occasionally and running down roads to greet someone.

"I'll take you to the Grill for real food."

The Grill was actually a bar as well. Damon walked straight towards it and I followed, looking around. It seemed to be a hangout of sorts for teenagers and adults. I already had two blood bags at home, so I was in the mood for food. Damon sat down immediately and looked back at me with his mouth twisted bitterly.

"Don't sit there." He nodded to the bar stool I was pulling out. I raised my eyebrows at him—and would have sat down anyway, if I didn't see that little bit of grief in his eyes, and the somber expression on his face. I sat on his other side.

I ordered pancakes while Damon drank his bourbon. Not a minute later, the sheriff pulled out the same chair on Damon's other side, pushing a piece of paper toward him. "That seat's taken," He said to her. She looked at him sternly, before coming to stand between us. Damon cleared his throat, looking passed her at me, before gesturing to me.

"This is my friend Isabella,"

The sheriff took a step back and looked at me with surprise, and then smiled at me in a stiff and hesitant way.

"How long have you been friends?" She asked. Her eyes travelled to the seat Damon was guarding, before coming back to me.

"Since before you were born." Damon replied smoothly. He took the paper and read the headline, "'Faulty gas line leads to tragic explosion at Young Farm,'" He set the paper down again. "Really?"

"Better than, 'town council blown up, police have no suspects.' Unless the perpetuator's right next to me." She stared at him.

"Well, don't look at me, I always take credit for killing people." He shot her a sunny smile before dropping it as he took in her serious look. Damon dropped the glass he was holding and turned to her impatiently. "Seriously. Stop looking at me like that, Liz. If I was gonna kill 12 people I wouldn't blow 'em up. I'd have a dinner party." He shrugged a little and smiled as he took another drink."

"The explosion was sparked from inside. This wasn't an accident..."

Her words trailed off... or I think it was my hearing. The world seemed to slow down for a moment as I took in the eyes of a man who just walked in. He had a confident walk, eyes already scanning the Bar and landing on the sheriff. He walked toward us.

Predator. He was a predator, something was strangely... driven in his gaze. He knew what he wanted.

"Excuse me, sheriff?" He reached us and looked away from me at Liz. She stood, facing him. "Hi, I was wondering if I could speak to you for a minute about the explosion at the Young Farm?"

"I'm sorry, Mr..."

"Oh, Conner Jordan." He met my eyes as he shook her hand, and then stared intently at Liz again. Something shifted in his expression as she shook his hand. He was suddenly more... open.

"Are you with the insurance investigators?"

"No, no, I'm more of a... independent contractor." He looked at Damon who smiled his fake smile. "Can we speak in private?"

"Sure," Liz shot Damon a look before walking off with Conner. Damon stared at them walk, before looking back at me and shrugging.

"It's a crazy town I told you." He finished his drink and gestured to my plate of pancakes. "Are you going to eat that?" He asked. I looked down at it, heaping with maple syrup and berries, and pushed it toward him.

"I'm not so hungry anymore." Damon sighed loudly at my answer.

"What's wrong?"

"I should be asking you that," I turned in my seat to face him. "You don't look like yourself. I knew you changed, but..." I hadn't expected him to be so affected by the town's situations. I hadn't expected him to be friends with the Sheriff and to be so acquainted with so many people in town that he knew who was new in town. I thought he would be revelling in the town's hardships—but he was just as affected by them as the citizens were.

"I haven't changed that much." He said offhandedly. I raised my brows at him, and he rolled his eyes. "Maybe a little. But I'm still the same person."

"I see that, Mr. Dinner Party." Damon grimaced.

"See? Same person." He smiled and turned to ask for another glass of bourbon. "Sure you don't want any? They're great," He pushed the plate of half eaten pancakes back toward me. I took the fork and knife from his hand and began eating.

"I gotta call Stefan and tell him about the council's tragic end."

Through the skylight in the ceiling, I saw the bite on my wrist in new light. It was still crescent shaped, white, but it was... _sparkling. _Honestly sparkling. It looked like it had been painful. It would have been—to have a bite that actually marked a vampire... what kind of thing could do this? Another vampire?

I felt nauseous for a second. Blood sharing wasn't something I would want to experience with just anyone—and not in a way that looked so violent it left a mark. And this... bite mark didn't look like there were just fangs. It looked like some human had full on bitten me and left a mark. That was even more ridiculous than the whole 'when pigs fly' saying.

Why couldn't I remember?

A hand covered my wrist, and I looked back at Damon. He stared intently at me.

"Stop worrying about it, okay? We'll figure out what to do."

"Maybe I should let the memories go." I said slowly. "Maybe there's something I shouldn't be knowing—"

"No," He interrupted. "There is no, 'ignorance is bliss,'" he mocked me in falsetto. "We're gonna figure this out, and then you're gonna kick the ass of the person who did this to you."

"Right." I muttered. He was being devastatingly optimistic.

"I brought you this," I turned back to see him pull out a gold cuff from the inside of his leather jacket. He took my wrist and pushed it on, so it covered the bite mark. "It's pretty fragile, so don't knock it into anything." He grinned at me, meeting my eyes again. I smiled as I ran my fingers over the cuff.

I knew it was fragile—it was crafted for me in 1870, when I could afford jewellery again. The gold smith had claimed he had made this cuff and it took him weeks. Initially, I had gone in to compel myself a bracelet and leave, but seeing the cuff and his honest expression had made me pay full price for it. My mother had a silver bracelet just like this—but it had been buried with her.

The cuff was pure gold, made in the shape of leaves and flowers intricately woven together. I gave it to Damon around 2006—or it might have been 2007, to show him I would come back and find him. I had forgotten about it completely, but now it did the perfect job of concealing the mark.

"Did you do it?" Elena blurted out as she jostled the chair beside Damon. We both looked back at her, and Damon took his hand away from my wrist. Elena glanced down before meeting my eyes.

"Hey, what's up?" I said to her. She smiled quickly at me and glanced at Damon again.

"That seat's taken," Damon pointed to the chair she was about to sit on.

"But there's no one here..."

"Well, I'm just gonna pretend there is someone there because the alternative is too damn depressing," he smiled a fake smile at her—something he was doing a lot today. She sighed in defeat and walked around to stand between us.

"Did you set off the explosion that killed the town council?"

"Am I wearing my 'I blew up the council' t-shirt? Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"Did you?" She said sternly.

"_No. _Anything else?"

He turned back to his drink, rolling his eyes. Elena shifted, nervous.

"Yes... something's wrong." She took a deep breath. "I can't keep any of the animal blood down."

I whistled sharply as Damon said, "Well, there's a shock," sarcastically.

"It's disgusting, there's your answer," I said to her. She gave me a look over her shoulder, but I could see a little agreement in her eyes. I tried not to smile as she turned back to Damon.

"I think I need your help."

"Of course you do." Damon muttered. "Pick your meal, you got 'Asian Fusion,' 'Mexican,' or what about some good American comfort food?"

"No. No, no human blood. Stefan's right, I have to at least try to get through this without hurting anyone."

Damon met my eyes over her shoulder, as if saying, '_see what I have to deal with?' _I shrugged at him. Lots of people rejected vampirism. I had seen firsthand what it could do to you.

Damon finished his drink and stood.

"Come on." He dragged her off around to the bathrooms. I turned to watch them leave, wondering if Damon would come back. It would suck to have to find my way back home, but walking through the streets of Mystic Falls would definitely help me get more used to the town.

The chair Damon had been saving was scraped back, and I looked back to see a tall, well built guy about to sit in it. He was wearing all black—a black hoodie that somehow managed to cover his entire face with shadows.

"That seat's taken," I said to him. He looked up to me, and I caught a glimpse of his lips pulling slowly into a smirk, and

stubble over his chin.

"My mistake," He said smoothly, and moved into Damon's seat.

"That one's taken too." I interrupted. He sat anyway, and ordered vodka. I glared at him, and he was facing me, probably staring.

"Out of sight, out of mind?" He asked me. Frowning, I tilted my head in silent question. He had a soothing voice... smooth, deep, something sounded... _otherworldly _in his voice. He gestured to my wrist. "You used to walk around with that scar proudly. It was hot,"

"What?" I spat.

"Now you're wearing a sweet little bracelet your little boyfriend gave you to cover it. What happened to you?" There was a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded, pushing away from him on my chair.

"Don't swear at me, Isabella." He said seriously. I let out a long sentence of profanities, although I'm sure the general message came across (stay the bleep away from me you bleeping bleep bleeeep bleeeeeep), he ignored what I said and hooked a finger around the leg of my chair, dragging me toward him.

"You see, sweetheart, we have a little bit of a problem here. It seems you really have forgotten the past year—or you're faking it, but I know you're a smart one. You wouldn't disrespect me like _that _if you remembered what I could do to you..." he shrugged suddenly, "well. What I've already done to you." He corrected himself.

I was shocked beyond words. His words were taking too long to sink in, and when I finally opened my mouth, the stupidest thing possible came out; "You know me?" I sounded breathless.

Clearly, it was the wrong thing to say to him. Slowly, his smirk widened, revealing his sexy lips.

"Honey, I know you in ways you don't even know yourself." He said silkily. He leaned toward me. "Not even your little Salvatore boy toys know you the way I do."

I think something in me snapped. Sometimes, people act first and think later. Sometimes it was a good trait, and others it wasn't... today it wasn't a good trait to possess, and boy did I possess it.

I acted out and punched him hard, aiming for his nose—and broke my wrist.

"Ah," I groaned. "You _fecking..._ you bloody fool! What is _wrong _with you?"

"_You_ punched _me_, woman. And I'm not going to forget it." He said through gritted teeth. "I'm going to make one thing clear; you will not let some witch root around in your thoughts for missing memories. _I _have those memories, and _I'm _going to be the one to get your memories back. And then we're going to finish what we started with the Cold Ones, and you will _gladly _help me. If you make _any _move against me, I'm going to kill the Salvatore boy you _love _so much, and I will make you watch." He paused, leaned toward me a little more. "_So, _have I made myself clear? Or did you lose a few brain cells when you fell over the porch steps of the Pastor?"

"Okay, Mr. Creepy-I-Know-Everything guy," I began with a fake smile, "I'm going to make something clear myself. You stay the fuck away from me, and perhaps I might delay seeking revenge for a few years. If you know me at all, you will know that I'm _promising _you... I will make your miserable life a living _hell, and you will wish you were dead."_ My voice was cold; slow... an assassin's voice. I kept all emotion away from my expression—namely confusion and hatred, and... dare I say, _fear. _

"I know you, Isabella." He nodded. "I know everything about you. I know you will _try _to make my life a living hell...and you will fail. At the end of the day, there's only one person who will be dead. And it's not going to be me, or you... but it will be _him." _The bastard gestured behind me, to where Damon was talking to Elena outside the bathroom. "And maybe everyone else you've befriended here. Hell, I may even track down _Tatiana..."_

"If you utter another word, I will _rip. You. Apart."_

The rage that awakened in me was something that couldn't be stopped. I couldn't handle looking at him; I stared at the rows of bottles in front of me. If he ever threatened her again, I would track him down myself. I would blow him apart to _pieces._

"You're right, that was a little low." He whispered. "But it's true."

* * *

**Please Review... I swear I'll work faster :) **


	3. Chapter 3

"_He's still staring." Allison couldn't keep the jealousy out of her eyes; but her wide smile made up for it. I elbowed her sharply and smiled a little. _

"_Do I have something on my face?" I asked, joking. Allison laughed._

"_Only what he's lusting for."_

"_Lusting?" I repeated, laughing. _

"_Don't you know teenage boys at all? You're best friends with the Salvatore boys. Don't you know all about... what they like?"_

"_I don't know what you're talking about." I lied, opening the fan in my hands. I tilted my face to the sky, loving the smell of the spring, the warmth of the sun. I remembered Damon leaning toward Rosalyn De Luca, and how they had been _embracing _at first, and then _kissing...

"_Look at that blush!" Allison cried, pinching my cheeks. I hit her with my fan, and knew I was blushing a little more. "Of course you know what I'm talking about."_

"_Stop it," I laughed, but it felt fake. Remembering the night when Rosalyn and Damon were behind the estate annoyed me. The next morning, Damon had been so... smug and Rosalyn's lips were more red. She had been twirling her hair around her finger like mad, fluttering her eyelashes every few seconds for no apparent reason. In the end, I had asked her, 'do you need to see a doctor, Rosalyn? I thought you may have something in your eye, with all the blinking you've been doing.' Rosalyn had blushed, and glanced at Damon innocently._

"_Will he ever stop staring?" I jumped at Damon's voice beside me and realized belatedly he had sat on the bench beside us. He was frowning, and glaring at Harlow across the field and stables, where the riders were grooming their horses._

"_He fancies Isabella," Allison giggled._

"_He's almost 20 years old." Damon said, looking annoyed. "She's only 15."_

"Only?"_ I repeated. "You're the same age. Don't make me sound young."_

"_Perhaps he wants to marry you," Allison grinned at me. "Lady Charlotte always said men marry women younger than them."_

"_Let's not talk of marriage." I rolled my eyes. Some of the girls in this town were in a rush to grow up. I could live like this, as a young girl with no responsibilities. "I don't care for it."_

"_What lady doesn't care for marriage?" Allison asked incredulously._

"_The one right next to you." Damon glanced at me with mischief in his eyes. _

"_And Rosalyn De Luca." I couldn't help but add._

"_What?" Damon's smile dropped. I gave him my own glittering smile. _

"_I've seen her flirt with countless men, young and old... and, well, you can't flirt around if you're married. Right, Allison?"_

"_Exactly." Allison met my eyes and grinned widely, nodding her head. _

"_She flirts around?" Damon looked shocked._

"_She batted her eyelashes at my father once!" Allison blurted. "That lustful girl." _

"_Huh." Damon stared off into the distance. I had expected him to be more... heartbroken, I suppose. He just looked fairly surprised. "Well, I promised Tati I'd take her to the river. Your mother wants some berries too."_

"_I'll follow you in a moment." I promised. He stood, and walked back in the direction of my house. The moment he was out of earshot, Allison whirled toward me. _

"_You little liar!" She grinned. "You're trying to put him off her."_

"_She's not right for him." I shrugged. "And she's too young for him as well."_

"_I suppose her eyes aren't dark enough either, or her hair lacks shine?" Allison mocked me._

"_It's not about how she looks." I said honestly. "When the right girl comes, I'll know."_

"_Since when were you the Salvatore's right hand judging girl?" She asked. I shrugged._

"_I'm his best friend. It's an obligation." I winked and grinned as I walked away, wondering if I would ever find a right girl to match Damon's nature._

* * *

_**DPOV:**  
_

"She should be good," Damon stood behind the chair he had been sitting on and looked back down to Bella. She had her head down, staring hard at the bar. "She probably won't be able to keep any animal blood down though."

He had been feeling better, after letting Elena drink his blood, but seeing Bella now, he felt strangely guilty. She looked so... down. "Bella. Bella," He touched her shoulder and she looked up at him.

He recoiled, trying not to show his shock, but seeing her expression, he knew he was failing.

Her eyes were... cold.

"Still here." She murmured, and smiled coldly. "I haven't lost my mind yet,"

Yet. There was always life in her eyes, there was always a certainty behind her gaze, and now... she looked dead.

Not dead exactly, but not alive either.

"What are you talking about?" He demanded in one breath.

"I'm not talking about anything." Her laugh was humourless. Damon stared at her. There were a few times she had looked at him like this. Each time, he was left with drained corpses and a bunch of witnesses he had to compel and her... gone, for a new life.

Each time she killed, she didn't get over it. She stored it in her heart until all her grief came out in one hit, and she broke apart. The reaction was so expected that he knew what to do; the best thing for her was to forget, to move on, to delay the inevitable.

"Let's go home," He suggested. "I've got a whole year of movies you've missed out on. We'll stay in and watch—"

"You're afraid I'm about to break." Her voice was throaty, like how she usually spoke to Stefan. "Don't worry though. I won't break in this precious town of yours. I know how much it means to you." She laughed again and hopped off the seat. Given her sick expression and throaty voice, he expected her to be in pain and walk slowly, but she bounced with each step and smiled at him over her shoulder. "Hurry up. You better have popcorn."

* * *

**EPOV**

"_There is a castle on a cloud..." _

"Would you stop banging the cupboards?" Stefan demanded. Bella turned, holding a bag of popcorn and glaring at him. She turned around and purposely slammed another door, and opened the next one. "_I like to go there in my sleep."_

"I hope next time you sleep, you find yourself half way across the world." Stefan snapped.

"_Aren't any floors for me to sweep, not in my castle on a cloud..."_

Stefan swore, annoyed, under his breath. "Bella."

"My apologies, sir Stefan," She mocked, bowing her head and shooting him a smile that looked... well on her. A smile that promised pain and eyes that shone with innocence. It was a very Damon-like expression, Elena realized. Despite her subtle questions about the girl, no one would reveal anything about her. "After all, I am only a guest in this house, right?"

"Wrong," Damon appeared behind Bella, snatching a handful of popcorn from the bag she was holding. In the next moment, he was across the large kitchen, and throwing the popcorn toward her. She leaped up to catch it in her mouth, laughing. "She lives here." Damon said to Stefan, warning in his eyes.

"If she lives here, she's going to have to be quiet." Stefan said.

"I'm being quiet." Bella said sweetly. "You just always have to pick on me for _some _reason."

"Stop pretending to be the victim," Stefan snapped. "Your time is long over for that."

Something in the atmosphere changed. Elena stared at the three of them in confusion. Stefan halted, clenching his fists. All expression drained from Bella's face, and she seemed to relax, or try to relax. Damon—a split second of pure panic washed over his face and he glared at Stefan, outrage in his eyes.

"Hm." Bella hummed, and bounced on the balls of her feet. Her eyes went alight and her cheeks flushed. "I'm glad you said that."

She lunged and her fist cracked against his nose. As a human, Elena wouldn't have been able to track the entire movement—but she could now, and as soon as the damage was done, Bella darted back toward Damon, smiling—or really, just baring her teeth at Stefan. Everyone was speechless—Elena just stared with her mouth open, feeling like her own reflexes were dead.

"Mmm..." Stefan seemed to barely contain his anger as he stood and lunged toward her as well. Damon stood between them.

"Give it a break," He snarled at Stefan. "You're taking out your own problems on her—"

"She shouldn't be here! Every where she goes, something bad happens. Don't tell me you haven't noticed!"

"_Stefan!" _Damon growled.

"What?" Bella blurted. "What's he talking about?" Damon turned to her.

"Nothing—"

"The Pastor," Stefan answered, "was responsible for the death of the council, right after you showed up. And now we have a vampire Hunter in town, after you showed up."

"You haven't changed," Bella snapped. "You're still trying to blame other people for your own problems."

"And you haven't changed either. Everyone is still paying for your mistakes."

"_My _mistakes." Bella repeated. "Everyone thought you were the righteous one, Stef. And yet, you can't even own up to your mistakes. You don't learn from them. You only hide them or pretend it's my fault, _every time."_

"Don't make this personal—"

"You made it personal." Her voice cut through the air angrily. "And I'm done talking to you. Stop accusing me of things we were all victims of." She shot him one last withering glare as she walked out.

"Thanks a lot." Damon echoed her sarcasm and muttered to Stefan as he followed her out.

"Why do you hate her so much?" Elena asked Stefan. She had watched them, trying to make out some sort of reason, but they all fit well together, like childhood friends... like they were once family.

"I don't hate her. Some things can't be forgiven." Stefan's voice was hard.

"How long have you known her?" She pressed. Stefan stared at her for a moment.

"We've known her our whole lives."

Elena felt her annoyance grow. While they hadn't kept her existence a whole secret, they never mentioned her either. Except for the strange calls Damon always made and looked happier after, claiming he had been talking to an 'old friend.' Stefan never mentioned her, but if Damon was talking on the phone happily, Stefan was always annoyed.

"How was she turned?" Elena asked. Was the whole story they told about Katherine a lie? How could she have turned at the same time?

"That's not my secret to tell." Stefan said bitterly. Things were getting too confusing.

"Katherine didn't turn her?" She asked.

"It's not my secret to tell." Stefan repeated. He was getting more agitated, at what, she didn't know. "I am... physically unable to tell it. There are some spells that can do that."

"A witch?" Elena asked. "A witch put a spell on you?"

"Bella can be... influential. Especially around us." Stefan said.

"Influential," Elena repeated. There was so much she wanted to know about her. Was she turned by Katherine? What did she do to Stefan? Why would a witch go to such lengths to help Bella keep her secret? "Does Damon know how she turned?"

"Everyone knows a different side to the story." Stefan shifted on his feet. "We don't talk about it much."

"Was she friends with you or Damon first?"

"Damon, of course." Stefan smiled genuinely, some of the annoyance and anger disappearing from his eyes. "They were born before me."

"You've literally known her since birth?" Elena asked, surprised.

"_I _have. Damon and Bella are months apart, but we only really grew closer after our mother died. And then her mother became something like ours—" He choked off abruptly, like he just caught what he had said. "Katherine was the master of manipulation. Bella was the queen."

Elena knew he wasn't going to say anything else about her; but she noticed he didn't say she was the 'Queen of manipulation' with any annoyance or anger. He said it like it was a fact, and nothing could be done about it.

She supposed he was right. Nothing could be done about her 'manipulation skills' because looking at her... it was clear Bella didn't even know she had those 'skills.' She had Damon following her every move and didn't realize it. She wondered if there had ever been something between them... some sort of twisted triangle between the brothers and Bella, and then both brothers and Katherine... then both brothers and her.

Something twisted in her stomach. She could barely handle Katherine trying to make a pass at the boys. Now Bella? Damon had stared after Katherine like he was a lost puppy—he stared after Bella like he admired her.

* * *

**BPOV:**

"Stop buzzing around!" Damon caught me midair by throwing his arm out, behind him on the couch. I halted as the air rushed out of me , and fell over him, catching my breath.

"I told you not to do that when I go into fast-mo!"

"And I told you to _stop _going into fast-mo." I pushed off him, making sure to use all my weight and sat on his stomach. He barely grunted and I stared down at him. "That doesn't work. You're too light."

"Ugh." I slapped his face lightly as I stood. "He drives me insane." Damon grew serious and nodded, knowing I was talking about Stefan.

"He's my brother."

"I'm well aware of that." I sighed. Stefan was still angry. He always would be. He hated that I was keeping something from Damon, who told me _everything. _He hated that Damon was loyal and honest with me, and I wasn't with him. He hated was forced to betray Damon also by keeping my secret.

And he hated that there was nothing he could do about it.

"How did you piss him off anyway?" Damon asked seriously, blue eyes serious in the firelight.

"I told you," I said with a wry smile. "I swore him to secrecy."


	4. Chapter 4 Preview

**Hey guys, this is just a preview for the next chapter :) A little flashback scene ;) please review**

* * *

"_Mother! Mother, Damon's being vexing!" _

"_Hush!" A harsh slapping noise shut me up, as the maid's hand whacked my head and Damon's hard, at the same time. We both leaned forward at the impact, and I spun to glare at her. "Your mother's unwell. She's resting." _

"_He invited Harlow for Dinner tonight." I snapped._

"_Well, you wouldn't stop staring at him!" Damon countered. "You'd think I did you a favour."_

"_Oh, and I suppose I should just look _anywhere _but his face when he talks to me?" I replied sarcastically. He was being such a fool!_

"_You were giggling after him like a lovesick school girl! Of course he was going to talk to you!" _

"_That was Allison, in case you're too blind to see. Or hear! I don't giggle!"_

"_You giggle all the time! He complimented your hair and you giggled!"_

"_I did not!"_

"_Yes, you did."_

"_I didn't!"_

"_I saw you!"_

"_Be quiet!" Two hard whacks shut us up and left me feeling dizzy as the maid moved to stand in front of us, waving her hand as if warning us. "Your mother is sick, Isabella! She needs rest."_

_I caught sight of the seriousness on the maid's face and tried to drop my annoyance and fury at Damon. I could see him struggling to do the same._

"_How is she?" I asked. The maid, if possible, looked more serious._

"_Not well at all. No visitors." She seemed satisfied with our expressions and left, holding a tray that carried a jug of water... although the water was tinged with red, and there was a red smear over the handle. Frowning, I wondered if there was a new medicine, being tried on my mother. She seemed fine yesterday, when she yelled at Stefan for running into the door foolishly and scolded Damon and I for laughing until we cried._

"_I'm going to visit her." I said to Damon. He locked eyes with me and nodded, all previous hostility and anger at me forgotten. Damon and I were quite excellent at them. We fought constantly, and everyone always swore we would grow to hate each other one day, but they didn't understand._

"_I'll knock if anyone walks by," He promised. We walked slowly up the stairs, pausing at each sound, until we were down the hall. "Hurry." He whispered as I walked in. I nodded and shut the door behind me._

"_Mother?" _

_Her private chambers were large, a huge bed, dark brown furniture. I hadn't been in her room in quite a while, not since I was younger. It seemed... bigger, back then. _

_My mother sat up in bed, touching her jaw and looking to be in great pain. She barely turned her head to toward me. She was tall, with long black hair and stunning green eyes, the kind that stared right into you, like Damon's. _

"_Mother... are you alright? How are you feeling?" _

"_Isabella." Her voice was strange, crooning. She turned toward me and stood, and I gasped at the sight of her nightgown. A deep, red slash across her stomach. Blood. _

"_Oh—Mother! What happened? Are you hurt? You need a doctor!"_

"_Not hurt, not hurt." She repeated, shaking her head. She touched at her stomach. "Your father was just a little careless. He must have tripped, and he was holding that old antique sword over the fireplace!" She laughed and shook her head. My horror only grew, and something fluttery ran through my veins and made my heart drum against my ribs. _

"_Mother." I choked out. She looked panicked herself now, and she reached toward me._

"_Oh, Isabella. I'm fine!" She pulled me against her, and I shivered at the touch of her ice cold hands. Something twisted in my chest. I tried to push away from her, but she held me with a sharp grip. "Just a second, just a little." She crooned and then smiled ferociously, and her teeth—they sharpened! Her eyes filled with red, and she became a monster._

_I screamed, twisting away, thrashing—and she ripped my throat out._


	5. Chapter 5

_Mother! Mother, Damon's being vexing!" _

"_Hush!" A harsh slapping noise shut me up, as the maid's hand whacked my head and Damon's hard, at the same time. We both leaned forward at the impact, and I spun to glare at her. "Your mother's unwell. She's resting." _

"_He invited Harlow for Dinner tonight." I snapped._

"_Well, you wouldn't stop staring at him!" Damon countered. "You'd think I did you a favour."_

"_Oh, and I suppose I should just look _anywhere _but his face when he talks to me?" I replied sarcastically. He was being such a fool!_

"_You were giggling after him like a lovesick school girl! Of course he was going to talk to you!" _

"_That was Allison, in case you're too blind to see. Or hear! I don't giggle!"_

"_You giggle all the time! He complimented your hair and you giggled!"_

"_I did not!"_

"_Yes, you did."_

"_I didn't!"_

"_I saw you!"_

"_Be quiet!" Two hard whacks shut us up and left me feeling dizzy as the maid moved to stand in front of us, waving her hand as if warning us. "Your mother is sick, Isabella! She needs rest."_

_I caught sight of the seriousness on the maid's face and tried to drop my annoyance and fury at Damon. I could see him struggling to do the same._

"_How is she?" I asked. The maid, if possible, looked more serious._

"_Not well at all. No visitors." She seemed satisfied with our expressions and left, holding a tray that carried a jug of water... although the water was tinged with red, and there was a red smear over the handle. Frowning, I wondered if there was a new medicine, being tried on my mother. She seemed fine yesterday, when she yelled at Stefan for running into the door foolishly and scolded Damon and I for laughing until we cried._

"_I'm going to visit her." I said to Damon. He locked eyes with me and nodded, all previous hostility and anger at me forgotten. Damon and I were quite excellent at them. We fought constantly, and everyone always swore we would grow to hate each other one day, but they didn't understand._

"_I'll knock if anyone walks by," He promised. We walked slowly up the stairs, pausing at each sound, until we were down the hall. "Hurry." He whispered as I walked in. I nodded and shut the door behind me._

"_Mother?" _

_Her private chambers were large, a huge bed, dark brown furniture. I hadn't been in her room in quite a while, not since I was younger. It seemed... bigger, back then. _

_My mother sat up in bed, touching her jaw and looking to be in great pain. She barely turned her head to toward me. She was tall, with long black hair and stunning green eyes, the kind that stared right into you, like Damon's. _

"_Mother... are you alright? How are you feeling?" _

"_Isabella." Her voice was strange, crooning. She turned toward me and stood, and I gasped at the sight of her nightgown. A deep, red slash across her stomach. Blood. _

"_Oh—Mother! What happened? Are you hurt? You need a doctor!"_

"_Not hurt, not hurt." She repeated, shaking her head. She touched at her stomach. "Your father was just a little careless. He must have tripped, and he was holding that old antique sword over the fireplace!" She laughed and shook her head. My horror only grew, and something fluttery ran through my veins and made my heart drum against my ribs. _

"_Mother." I choked out. She looked panicked herself now, and she reached toward me._

"_Oh, Isabella. I'm fine!" She pulled me against her, and I shivered at the touch of her ice cold hands. Something twisted in my chest. I tried to push away from her, but she held me with a sharp grip. "Just a second, just a little." She crooned and then smiled ferociously, and her teeth—they sharpened! Her eyes filled with red, and she became a monster._

_I screamed, twisting away, thrashing—and she ripped my throat out._

* * *

"_Impossible." My voice was a small croak, and I shook my head, although my hair stuck to my neck. My torn, wounded, painful and bitten neck. And no one believed me. "I saw her. She was a m-mon—" I couldn't even get the word out. I was talking about my mother. _

"_Have some more water, Isabella," The maid fluttered around the arm chair I was seated on, pouring water from the pitcher into a glass. Her hands were shaking, and water spilled around on the silver tray. Father didn't complain, he kept his narrowed eyes on me. The maid held the glass to my lips; I realized I was shaking more than her, and my teeth were chattering too much for me to drink. She pulled the glass away._

"_She bit me," I repeated for the hundredth time. "You didn't see it!"_

"_Please be mature about this, Isabella." My father was leaning back in his seat, arms around the back, his face a perfect mask of calm. His body language disagreed. His shoulders were stiff, hands gripping the sides of the chair too hard, white knuckles showing. "You cannot accuse your mother of attacking you—"_

"_It wasn't her in that room!" I screamed. "I am not unstable! She ripped my throat out!"_

"_Hold her down." My father winced and gestured to the other maids around me, and they tackled me back into the armchair. "Isabella, please calm down. You didn't eat today. We've already come to the conclusion that you were feeling faint, and—"_

"_No!" I shook my head. "I didn't fall! I didn't dream it. It happened! She—"_

"_Isabella, you'll be fine." My father interrupted me. "The armoire was splintered to pieces. You only fell over it and cut your neck—and your mother slept through it. Now please, she's sick. You've been causing her enough grief." _

"_No." I shook the hands of the maids off my arms and stood. The world tilted strangely, and a strange, light feeling took over my mind. I heard my father sigh and the front door pound; I heard Damon's voice on the other side._

"_Take her to her chambers and alert me when she wakes." _

"_I'm not..." I'm not tired, I wanted to say, but the world was slipping away from me._

* * *

Damon always entered my room at the worst time.

It started when we were young, and clearly, he still kept that strange innocence that allowed kids to barge into bedrooms without wondering if the person inside wanted privacy or whatever. Things rarely changed for us, from when we were young.

This time, he whistled loudly and leaned back against the door, rather than turning around and walking away like any other normal person would have done, if they saw a girl dancing around her room with her iPod strapped, jamming out to music.

"You might fall," He nodded to the armoire I was standing on, and I jumped off, pulling my earphones from my ears and glaring at him. "We all know you've done that over the armoire before." He laughed at his own lame joke. I felt cold as the blood drained from my face and I turned away.

"We danced on the Eiffel Tower on New Years in the 1892. I have good balance."

"After you turned into a vampire." He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to check out that Hunter's caravan. I want to know what he's planning."

"Isn't it a little dangerous, considering...?" Considering the vampire hunter shot that hybrid boy? Considering he was still looking for all the vampires in town and wasn't afraid to kill them in a public place, and had no respect for the dead?

"Well, that's why I want you to come. If you come, I've got a crazy vampire chick who can bore him to sleep with a full description of why she thinks vampire hunters are dickheads."

"Then maybe I should go, if I'll be saving your ass." I grinned at him and winked. He blinked, and then turned away, clearing his throat. I frowned at his weird behaviour.

"You're upset about what happened at the memorial." I noticed. "About Elena rejecting your blood, and that hunter being in town at the worst possible moment."

"No, I'm just annoyed."

"Lie." I deadpanned. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Fine. I'm angry, not upset."

"There we are." I smiled as he told the truth. Damon narrowed his eyes.

"You can still tell when someone is lying."

"I always have been able to. I don't see why now would be any different." I answered. He nodded.

"Are you ever going to explain it to me?"

He always asked me to. But I wasn't quite sure how I could. It was more of a feeling, when I knew something wasn't right. It came with that stupid mark Emily put on me—but Damon didn't know about that mark, of 'innocence.' I wasn't about to explain it to him.

"Nope."

"You don't always have to shut me out." He looked angry, uncharacteristically. I frowned.

"I'm not shutting you out. It's a science, one I don't feel like explaining right now." I moved to sit down on my unmade bed, trying to look preoccupied. I was not about to tell Damon about it.

"But it's a science about you," He pressed. I looked up at him, raising my brows.

"So?"

"So I want to know."

For a moment, I was caught by the seriousness in his expression, the intensity of his eyes. His gaze never wavered, and I realized he was waiting for me to explain. He was waiting for me to explain something I couldn't, and that realization sent me smiling, trying to cover up my guilt.

"Nice try, killer." I stood and half smiled at him. "When will I finally meet your Power Ranger gang?"

Damon frowned and gritted his teeth, still annoyed about how I avoided telling him, but at the mention of the Power Ranger joke, he tried to cover up his smile and failed.

"They're Stefan's Power Ranger gang, and they're _kids. _They have school." He rolled his eyes, then grinned. "We can leave as soon as you get changed, by the way." He winked and glanced down at my clothes. I blushed and glared at him. I was wearing workout short shorts and an old camisole.

"Get out." I growled. He put his arms up in fake surrender.

"Okay, woman, I'm gone!"

I waited until he left the room painfully slowly before changing into jeans and an old sweater. I didn't know what to expect when meeting the gang, which mostly were referred to as 'the kids' by Damon. I had met Elena, who wasn't so bad. She could have been worse—but there was no telling what she could turn into; she was young, and vampires can change into completely different people.

* * *

Damon drove, mainly because he hated when I abused his car, but he promised to take me to the dealership in town so I could get a car for myself, as long as I was quiet during the 'expedition.'

Of course, knowing that I was going to get a car after this just made me more impatient.

"What exactly are you looking for?" I reached up to scrape my hair into a bun, getting it out of my face.

"Would you like to announce it to the world?" Damon snapped, annoyed.

I took a deep breath, and shouted, "_What are we looking for!" _

Damon slapped his hand over my mouth sharply, making me bite my tongue.

"Shut up!"

"No one's here!" I laughed at his jumpiness. He glared at me before turning around again and staring at the striped caravan in front of us. "We shouldn't have to be invited in, right?"

"I don't know." Damon shrugged as we walked on ahead. He had a new type of cautiousness about him. He double checked his surroundings, listened in longer than necessary, and shot me one last look of warning in his eyes. He seemed so... mature. Before, he would have barged in, ready to call out his threats and demands, and snap a few necks while he was at it, just for dramatic effect.

We stepped in, and I mirrored his hesitancy.

We didn't make it a step in. Two arrows flew through the short space of the caravan, and I dropped into a crouch on the floor by Damon's shoes. The arrows embedded in Damon's shoulder and thigh. He bared his teeth in pain and winced, letting out sounds of pain.

Slowly, I stood, looking around for anymore traps. I reached toward the arrows to pull them out of Damon, before he yelled out.

"Shit! No, don't do that!" I paused and glanced at him in confusion. He gestured to the black box they came from. Explosives. Uncontrollably, I let out a giggle. It was quite genius. "Bella." Damon growled.

"Okay, just wait. I'll cut the arrows out." I grabbed an army knife from the table beside me and braced a hand on his shoulder.

"I could call a doctor," Damon reached for his phone. I rolled my eyes.

"I am a doctor. I was a doctor in World War 2."

"Really?" He sounded surprised. I didn't answer. Damon and Stefan weren't like me. When I was turned, after I got over what happened with my family, I had a burning need to learn everything there was to know. I wanted languages, cultures, art, countries... and they were too busy mourning Katherine. I remember thinking of how stupid they were, letting the world pass by, and they kept telling me, '_the world isn't going to run away, Bella.' _But it did. Jokes on them, I suppose.

"You never told me." Damon said.

"You never asked," I twisted the knife hard a last time and dropped my hands. "Okay, pull it out." He didn't do it quietly. He grunted and I crouched to work on his thigh.

"Doesn't mean you don't have to tell me." He grumbled.

"So what are you looking for?" I changed the subject. He hummed, and tapped the letter he was holding.

"This letter is to April Young—the pastor's daughter. It's a whole lot of shit about some greater evil coming to Mystic Falls. War, sacrifice, dot, dot, dot."

"Huh." I sliced deeper with the knife and he grunted. "Well, if anything's coming here, I'm leaving. And I expect you to come with me."

"We'll see." I could tell by the absent minded tone he was using that he flat out disagreed.

"I mean it, Damon. There is nothing here in Mystic Falls that should keep you here. Besides, we're in need of a vacation. When was the last time we took one together?"

"1993, New Zealand."

"See? We need to get out more."

"We'll see." He repeated. Sighing, I dropped my hands. He pulled the arrow out, without much protest this time.

Damon claimed he wanted to change before we went to the dealership. He whistled happily, trying to get a rise out of me as he took his time driving to the boarding house. I pretended to show no reaction, although I was more than a little annoyed. I waited in the car for him to change, and he only managed to come back down a half hour later. Elena walked out behind him, looking angry. I didn't ask what it was about as he got in. His mood didn't seem to change.

"Elena's brother is working with us to trap that vampire hunter. We're going to the hospital straight after this."

"The hospital? Do you really think that's the best place?"

"We're not planning on causing a scene. We just want some answers."

"We." I repeated. Damon sped up a little, moving onto the highway.

"Klaus and I. And you,"

"I see." I sat back in my seat and stared out the window, crossing my arms. Damon sighed loudly.

"Stop judging."

"You know I don't judge."

"Well, you—just, don't—stop thinking about it—"

"So, what do you think?" I interrupted. He paused, confused. "An Audi, or a Lexus? I haven't bought a Lexus in a while. I could go classic and buy a car for show; a Nissan or something. You guys don't have many roads that go for miles around here, huh? Not ones that go through any desolate areas. And everything is so condensed with traffic. I don't see much use for a muscle car."

"Actually, there's a road that goes for hours, devilish curves and no traffic, desolate. Stefan's taking Elena on a bike ride there."

"A _bike _ride? What kind? Is it new?"

"Yeah, some modest little motorcycle. Bought today, helmets and all."

"Today? Modest? Little? Helmets!" I parroted. "Why didn't he ask for my input?" I demanded. "I could have helped! He said he liked my taste in vehicles."

"That was a while ago, and I'm pretty sure he was being sarcastic."

"He's always sarcastic around me." I grumbled.

"You have a Nissan GTR." He said, changing the subject from Stefan. I sighed, forgetting about him for now.

"But not a 2013 model. And it's in Prague."

"You could have it shipped over. Why don't you try... a Viper or something?"

"I want something I haven't tried before."

Damon was willing to pay half a million. At my dismayed face, he claimed we wouldn't even find anything worth more than that anyway.

The car I found was a Maserati, GranTurismo S. There was only one, in deep, rich blue. It was easily the sexiest car I had ever seen. I knew it was mine the moment I saw it.

Damon bought it under his name and instructed me to follow him to the hospital. He was getting jumpy, but I was ecstatic.

"We're driving this beast tonight," I stroked the top. "Isn't he sexy?"

"Sure." Damon nodded absently, scrolling through his phone. "Come on. Klaus is already there."

"Well, we wouldn't want to keep him waiting." I said with a sweet smile, twirling the keys around my finger.

The drive to the hospital wasn't satisfying, but I couldn't complain to Damon about it, because he wouldn't listen to a thing I was saying. He held onto my hand and pulled me into a quiet corridor.

"Klaus and I want to get information from the Hunter, so don't reveal anything about our plans."

"Yes, sir." Not that I even knew their plans.

"Did you bring the arrows?" He asked. I waved my bag at him. He exhaled and took a step back, leading me toward a storage room.

"Who's this?" I had heard Klaus's voice before. Of course, during the time I had been spying on Stefan in Chicago, and

before that, in France. I was just hoping he wouldn't remember me.

Damon and I turned to face him. He was old—I mean, not that he looked old. He looked young. But he just seemed to exude a type of... old world feel.

Damon tugged me into the storage room, and Klaus followed, still looking at us expectantly.

"This is Isabella." Damon said stiffly. Klaus held out a hand to me. I stared at him, unmoving. The spark of recognition I had been waiting for appeared in his eyes.

"I've seen you before." Klaus said abruptly. I raised my brows. He was still thinking, staring at my face intensely. "Château de Pierrefonds. France. We met."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but felt myself blush, and tried to hold back the smile on my face.

"Oh?"

"You told me you were French born and knew no other country in your lifetime." He grinned suddenly. "I knew there was something off about your accent."

"I speak French perfectly." I crossed my arms. "You couldn't have known."

"But that was the problem, Isabella. It was too perfect."

"You know each other?" Damon's voice was incredulous, and his eyes were wide with shock.

"I don't know him." I denied. "I saw him in France. Who wouldn't want to get a closer look?"

Both men stared at me now, and then Damon looked to Klaus, like he was expecting him to have an outburst or something.

I could understand Damon's trail of thought. I was referring to Klaus like he was some kind of science experiment. Did he expect me to give my utmost respect to someone I didn't know?

Instead, Klaus laughed. Now it was my turn to look incredulous.

"Well. You could have told me you were Isabella Cartwright. It's not like I would have done anything to harm you, if I could. I expected you to be glowing with wings or something, and instead you're just..." He waved a hand, gesturing toward me. I hadn't been so confused in a while. "Beautiful, but not exactly exuding innocence, like the rumours say."

"What?" I cleared my throat, embarrassed by how breathless my voice sounded. He knew. He knew about the mark of innocence. "That's ridiculous." I said harshly. I glanced at Damon, panicked. He was more confused than I was. I looked back to Klaus, and saw the supreme satisfaction on his face. He knew Damon didn't know. He was going to use this against me.

* * *

**Please review :)**


	6. Chapter 6

_No one told me that when someone dies, people visit you. No one told me that they will bring their maids, who will be holding platters of food. No one told me that these people will all be strangers to you, though you've known them your whole life. No one told me that the grief you feel will kill everything inside you. Tears, your appetite, any comfort anyone offers... none of it can match the sorrow inside. _

"_She was a wonderful lady." Lady Penelope squeezed my shoulder. Last week, she said my mother was being inconsiderate and wasteful, due to all the medicines my father had been buying for her. Did her thoughts vanish in the space of a week? Did she feel guilty for saying that about a dead woman? Or was she whispering about the waste of flowers that covered my mother's coffin?_

_A warm hand held onto mine, and I looked up to see Damon staring off into the distance of the lounge. We were posted at the door, made to greet guests. His eyes were as red as mine. _

"_Bella..." I looked up at the newest guest. Harlow stared at me, somehow, his whole expression oozed sympathy. He moved to embrace me, but Damon tugged me away to the side a little. His hand tightened on mine, but I didn't quite feel it._

"_Don't." He said hoarsely. Harlow nodded and followed his elder sister inside. I didn't understand the exchange between them, and I didn't care either. I wanted my mother. I wanted her to be seated between the ladies, I wanted her to glare at me and gesture for me to sit down and act lady like. I wanted her to stifle laughter with Damon and I as we watch Stefan and Tatiana acting stupid and careless. I wanted her to drop hints about how much she disliked Lady Penelope right to her face. _

_I wanted my mother back. _

_I wanted my father to stop looking at everyone in the room as if it was their fault she died. I wanted my father to stop looking so... satisfied._

_And most of all, I wanted Tatiana to stop shouting at the guests, telling them that Mother doesn't like flowers, and she would have a fit when she saw them all._

_But none of these things were ever going to happen._

* * *

**DPOV:**

The first time he was afraid of losing her was in the 1920s. It was in New York. Bella had been a different kind of girl that night. She had always been beautiful, but he could never forget what she was like in the 20s. She was... a different kind of _woman. _And everyone saw it.

The parties they went to always ended with her laughing and him sulking. She couldn't dance with him as she danced with other men. There was always a lazy, but thrilled and shining look in her eyes as she danced with men who waited in line for her, but with him, she made a joke out of it. She drew in a crowd, everyone wanting to understand the mystery behind her eyes. And he thought, she could have any of those men. _Anyone she wanted. _Someone who wasn't heartbroken, someone she could travel with. Why would she stay with him?

He felt that fear come back now, watching her and Klaus talk—or argue, but about what exactly, was the question. Klaus travelled all the time. He was the kind of guy that Bella would like, the bastard Klaus was, but they were... compatible. And they had met before. And Klaus knew something about Bella that he didn't.

He hated him. More than he ever did before.

"Shut up." Damon snapped abruptly. "Both of you. We're not here to reminisce about the past."

"And his fatherly instinct kicks in," Bella rolled her eyes and half smiled. Klaus looked down at her with a strange expression, looking at Damon and then Bella again, narrowing his eyes.

"So when did you two meet?" Klaus asked leisurely. Damon felt a strange pressure behind his eyes. He felt like he was about to explode with anger and annoyance, and hatred toward Klaus.

* * *

**BPOV:**

"We found out _nothing." _Damon growled in annoyance as we walked through the halls of his home. Absently, he brushed glass out of my hair aggressively, and I winced as the glass cut into my scalp but healed a moment later. "The guy always has to drop some vague remark or comment before disappearing."

"The Hunter?" I asked, confused. I had been under the impression that they barely knew each other. Damon shook his head, still frowning deeply.

"Klaus."

"Ah." I knew Damon and his Power Ranger gang had a deep hatred for Klaus, and well, all the Originals. Personally, I didn't see it. Yes, he killed Elena and her family and Katherine's family and probably thousands of other people, but he was a thousand year old vampire, for one thing. Wasn't that expected? I bet when Stefan and Damon reach the thousand year mark, they'll have killed just as much people.

I also have a special policy about not judging people. I say it's special because it's hard, really. Ever tried not judging people? Anyway, until Klaus does something horrible to me, I won't judge him. But seeing how things went today, he is well on his way to pissing me off. The thought of Klaus telling Damon about Emily's little 'gift' made me ready to have an aneurysm.

"You _met _Klaus?" Damon asked me incredulously. "You met him. Before we even knew he existed! You could have helped us out." I ignored him, leaping over the couch to lean back and sit down. When I turned to look at him, though, there was genuine hurt in his eyes. He sat down next to me, facing me. I sighed.

"Damon, the only way I could have helped you was by telling you that he had an English accent, and could stare at people like he was a serial killer. I didn't mention it because I had no information to offer. He thought I was a human and he wasn't about to just randomly tell me about his life and ulterior motives and evil plans to steal the Salvatore's girl all over again."

I rolled my eyes as I said this, because I realized how true it was, that history repeated itself. Katherine was taken away, and Elena was supposed to be as well. "I just saw him, and I wanted to see what he was like firsthand."

"What if he compelled you? What if he took you and tried to kill you or something?" Damon pressed.

"Klaus isn't the kind of man to kill for no reason." I said certain about this. The man might have little regard for human life, but when you're that old, you rarely do anything without purpose.

"And you know him so well now." Damon snapped, harshly. I turned to face him, surprised by the bitterness in his tone. He glared into the empty fireplace.

"I know _of _him so well." I corrected with a wry smile. "You should hear vampire rumour mill. It's like Gossip Girl 2.0."

"Gossip Girl?" He repeated. I rolled my eyes. Sometimes, having a guy best friend sucked. A girl would have totally understood that joke.

"Let's go to the lake!" I jumped up and pulled him with me. "Go change and meet me by my car."

"I don't think it's the best time—" I ignored his hesitation and tore through the house, changing into a bikini so fast it had to be a world record. I threw a dress on and snatched two towels on our way out. Damon got in the car beside me a moment later.

Driving fast, I think, is not completely okay to do without practise. I let all the windows down and shook my hair out, allowing the wind to scream in the car at the speed we were going. Damon was torn between shouting and laughing.

But Damon was right when he told me that Mystic Fall's scenery is like that of a farm. There were only rolling green hills and fences, that is, until we got to the outskirts of the woods.

The sun was starting to set, and without warning Damon, I threw the door open and leaped into the trees, darting between the huge trunks and hitting Damon in the face with branches. He shouted half hearted protests but got ahead of me, and smacked a branch so hard I felt dizzy for a moment.

I slammed into him, pushing until he fell into the water.

We had a good time, doing something we usually did to pass time over the years. After we floated lazily on our backs, staring up at the stars and watching the moonlight split through the leaves and trees.

"I have a house in Jersey," I said to Damon, "I'm thinking of going there tomorrow to get some stuff. Do you wanna come with?"

"I'll see what I'm doing."

"You should come. I have an amazing view and part of the beach."

"Weren't we in Jersey that time you tackled the shark?" He asked, sounding confused.

"Well, that's why I bought the house there. Someone needs to take care of the sharks." Of course, that wasn't true. I had killed a bull shark once, and almost passed out from exhaustion and blood loss afterward. After doing that once, I had quite enough, forever. I had avoided large bodies of water for solid years after.

Damon started to laugh. "So who do you call after? The lifeguard?"

"For your info, I keep my fridge stocked up." After tackling that shark in the 20s, I had stayed in a cave to recover but couldn't without the blood, and miraculously, Damon found me. He had to bring people so I could drink and recover. It was horrifyingly embarrassing and something he would never let me forget.

We decided to leave because it was getting colder, and I made Damon run in circles with me so we could dry faster before we got in my car. It was as we were leaving the car that Damon decided to talk serious.

"Do you think you'll ever settle down?" He asked suddenly.

"Do pigs fly?" I said sarcastically. "No, of course not." I shifted around on my feet, uncomfortable with this conversation. We had it a lot of times before, and it always ended with us upset.

"Does the idea scare you that much?" He asked, still calm. I sighed and faced him.

"It doesn't scare me. I could never just settle for being something so..." I never really knew how to explain it to him. I wanted to be larger than life, I wanted to live and experience every country, every culture. I could never stick to one.

"Small," Damon filled in for me, but that wasn't it. It was more than that. I didn't want to blur between the lines of people, living only one life. "You don't want to be like me."

"No, that's not it—"

"You don't want to do what's expected of you."

"Where are you getting this from? I'm not a teenager. It's more complicated than that." I started to walk toward the front door.

"You did the same thing when we were teenagers." He said loudly. He jogged up to me, walking by my side. "You were always going off to towns I've never heard of, always bringing back weird things—"

"That's not—" A strange wave of dizziness comes over me, because I realized that he's starting to put things together. "It's different."

"Why don't you tell me anything?" He sounded angry now, and when I turned to him, he crossed his arms and frowned down at me. "You're always denying—"

"I'm not denying!" I shouted at him. Did he always have to push me to talk? Why couldn't he just accept what I told him?

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Talk about what? Is it because of what happened?" He walked in front of me and stared into the shadows of the house, the black windows, the huge wooden door. His back and shoulders are tensed, and I can feel his anger and hurt in the air. He's about to say something harsh to me.

"Don't go there." I warned him. Damon stared at me in an awed kind of shock, for what reason, I didn't know. His expression changed again.

"I've screwed it up, haven't I?" He gave me a sad, annoyed kind of smile. "You're gonna leave and forget about this for a while. You always do that when we talk about the serious stuff."

"No, I'm not." I denied, tilting my chin up stubbornly. "I'm not leaving."

"We'll see." He nodded, like he's the one who knows better, the adult of the house. He turned and pushed the unlocked door open, and left it wide open as he walked toward his room. I glared at his back. He had to bring it up. He just had to.

"Have a nice trip." A familiar, lazy English voice made me whirl around to see Klaus standing in plain view, holding his phone in his hand. I frowned at him and gave him a look that should clearly translate to, '_Are you crazy_?'

"I'm not going anywhere." I tell him through gritted teeth. "And how much did you hear?"

"Well, after I got past listening to Stefan's voicemails, I heard something about you keeping secrets and him screwing things up. Seems to me like a lover's spat."

"We're not lovers." I rolled my eyes. "He's my best friend."

Klaus whistled, like he was watching a horrible car accident. "I must say I pity Damon occasionally."

I didn't really understand what he meant, and I didn't really care. I turned to walk inside the house, and he followed. As I was turning to my room, he grasped my arm abruptly.

"Isabella, you might want to take a stealth class before you consider following a thousand year old Original vampire around in France, next time."

I hate how I still blushed, although I suppose he was right. After following him around in France, I had expected him to confront me, but he never did. I wondered if he knew who I was all along.

* * *

**Please Review :)**


	7. Chapter 7

"_It was so sudden." The words echoed around my head before I heard them and understood what the girl was saying in front of me. She reminded me of myself, vibrant, happy, a family girl. "No one expected it," _

_I wanted to tell her that my mother had a disease and had been on medication for more than three months, and I'm sure everyone had expected it to happen, everyone except me. People didn't know what to say when they saw me, and they usually repeated what they heard other people say. _

_I didn't have the energy to talk. I extended my arm toward her. She hesitantly took the envelope from my outstretched hand and turned around the counter, flipping through the contents. _

"_You can count it if you'd like to." Damon said from beside me. The girl sent us an apologetic look. _

"_Father would want me to. I want to say again I am truly sorry about your mother, Isabella. She was so... good. She would never have hurt anyone."_

_The idea of her hurting someone made me giggle. I blinked and saw her face, saw her lunging toward me with bloodied eyes and fangs. My giggle turned into a cackle, because clearly I was the only one who thought of my mother as ever being anything other than good. A stabbing pain went through my stomach as I laughed harder, tears streaming down my face. _

_This girl in front of me had probably only seen my mother once in her life and thought so highly of her._

"_You believe my mother is something of a saint now?" I asked her, but my voice was wild and ridden with laughter. _

"_Bella," Damon held my hand tightly, lacing his fingers through mine and putting his other arm around my shoulders as he steered me out. "I think I saw blueberry muffins at the bakery; we should bring some for Tatiana and Stefan." _

_The idea of seeing my sister tearing up flowers in the dining room made my stomach turn, and Stefan's mood swings made me want to scream at him. I wondered if my life would ever be normal again._

* * *

"So, back to college."

Damon barely looked at me. He stood in front of the mirror while I lied on his bed, scrolling through the phone he bought me to 'get with the current times.' "What did you study again?"

"Anthropology." He smiled dryly at me. I remembered how boring and exhausting it sounded, but Damon had been a complete nerd during that whole two years of study. He had been more human than I had ever seen him, completely fascinated by what he was studying while I snored through everything he tried to explain to me. "And you studied art and culture and philosophy."

"Art and Culture with philosophical components." I corrected. "But you guys aren't going to Stanford are you?"

"Just Whitmore College." He said absentmindedly. "The offer's still open. You can come if you want."

"I'll be fine here," I assured him. I knew he wanted this time for Elena, and I didn't want to get between them for now.

"Look," he said, abruptly serious as he turned to face me. "It's alright if you want to come. I don't want to come back to Mystic Falls only to read some riddled note about why you decided to skip this town for some Peter Pan adventure."

Damon and I were good at ignoring previous fights we had. Usually, we fought loud; sometimes we attacked each other, but somehow, the next day it was like nothing ever happened. I once broke Damon's arm repeatedly for almost an hour because he destroyed a jewellery set I found on the Titanic in the 50s. I once burned all his clothes from when he was human and he tried to drown me a week later in the middle of the Atlantic. I have to say, I'd take a broken arm over being unconscious in the middle of the Ocean any day.

"Please," I scoffed. "I've lived through all the Peter Pan adventures. I was thinking of something more traditional. Like Atlantis?"

Damon got the displeased look on his face I used to see on my Mother when I sat without poise or when I had blueberries smeared over my lips. The look still had the same effect; I wanted to fix it immediately. "I won't leave until I say goodbye this time." I said seriously.

There was hardly any change in expression, but I noticed as he gave me a grateful look, happy that I understood what he wanted.

"But I still want to find Atlantis."

* * *

The trio left quite early and I met Klaus at the bar and grill almost immediately after. My main goal was to tell him to shut the hell up about my 'innocence' and I wouldn't leave him on my shit list, which consisted of a long list of names I'd take my revenge on in the future. But he started speaking as soon as I sat down.

"Ever heard of the Five, love?" He asked, with a strange narrowed look to his eyes. I sat down in the barstool next to him gracelessly and pretended to think. The answer was yes. Hunters that could lead to the Cure of vampirism, and also the end to vampirism, although originally it wasn't for vampires but for Silas. He saw the answer in my eyes and nodded to himself. "I need your help with something."

"What kind of help?" I asked suspiciously, immediately thinking of dressing in a cat suit and chasing down five hot macho men, shirtless with tattoos sprawling over their chests; what he said made me think of myself as a library book nerd rather than a badass, cat suit wearing spy chick.

"Your knowledge, I suppose. I've heard that you're like a little walking encyclopaedia."

"Little." I repeated. I hid my disappointment about the cat suit well, but I couldn't accept being called little.

"Oh, that's right. You could never just settle for being so little." He said this with a smug little smile I honestly wanted to slap off his face. I contemplated punching him, but decided against it last second. Something told me that he had an ego bigger than the Pacific.

"Yes, exactly. And I also have not so little standards. So I'm done talking to you." _And I'm onto threatening you_; but he went on.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to drop by the Salvatore's and give them a little news about their best friend."

"Well, I'm glad you opened that topic because that's why I'm meeting you here." He raised his eyebrows and I saw this immense satisfaction and excitement in his eyes that irked me. I went on before speculating. "I'm willing to forget that you know about my 'beautiful, exuding innocence soul' if you agree to never talk about this again."

"First, I never called your soul beautiful," He corrected, holding up his index finger like he could shut me up with that motion alone. "And I never said you were exuding innocence."

I sat there and stared at him expectantly, crossing my arms. He'd be a fool not to accept; but he was giving me this look like he thought I was a fool for making an offer like that. I expected him to start laughing and declining, which would cause me to go into a more serious threatening mode, but instead, he crossed his arms and smiled.

"Fine. We'll shake on it," He offered his hand and I heard the lie in his voice clear as day. I stayed motionless.

"You're lying. Say it with sincerity."

"Deal. We'll shake on it." His eyes were considerably wider and his tone more open; but he was lying.

"Maybe I should rephrase it." I suggested. "How about, 'You leave me alone for... well, forever, and I'll return the favour?'"

"I wouldn't see it as a favour." Klaus raised his eyebrows at me. I chose to ignore that little statement.

"But do you accept?"

"No." He said without hesitation. "I won't tell those Salvatore boys if you don't give me reason to."

"No." I said quietly. I leaned forward before I knew what I was doing. "You don't hold _anything_ against me. No one does, and no one ever will. I don't care who you are or how old or how powerful. All I want is the most basic human respect from you. When I say I don't want to know you, accept it."

He was quiet for a long time as he stared at me with slightly narrowed eyes. Finally, he leaned toward me himself and opened his mouth to retort, and then bit it back.

"If I say I won't hold it against you, why don't you believe me?" He asked innocently. I narrowed my eyes.

"Say it again."

"I won't hold it against you." I heard him this time—the truth in his words. I would have been relieved; but something tells me the Originals are quite fickle, and Klaus could change his intentions with a thought. "I won't hold it against you unless you refuse to help me."

Whoa! Back up there. See what I meant? Fickle.

"Help you with what?" I curled my lip at him. He leaned further toward me. I focused on his gold eyelashes and green eyes for a moment before leaning back.

"I have one of the Five in captivity and I need to see his Hunter's mark, which has conveniently turned invisible in this day and age."

"And you think I can 'conveniently' see it for myself?"

"Yes."

"Well, you're wrong." A sudden thought came to me. "Why do you want the cure anyway?"

I realized my mistake too late, and Klaus leaned back with a satisfied smile as he looked at me. Like the cat who got the cream.

"I'd like us to work together on this, Isabella. We don't have to be enemies because I know your secret."

Actually, we did.

* * *

Klaus's house was a work of art. It had an old type of architecture, and the inside reminded me of lazy days lounging in France during the Summer of '65. The art that adorned the walls was also amazing. I wanted to sit in front of each frame and think about what each one meant, but Klaus walked too fast through the foyer to some lounge for me to admire.

"I don't think anyone should be exposed to the Cure." I said as we walked. "It's more than a Cure. It could be a weapon."

"Which is exactly why I want to find it before anyone else does." He said offhandedly.

"Why do I have to be dragged into this? I want to be as far from this thing as possible." And it was the truth. I loved being immortal. I loved having a huge, expanse of time stretched ahead of me, like a book filled with empty pages, waiting to be filled with colour.

"You don't want the Cure?" Klaus asked curiously, turning around to face me. I laughed, maybe a little too loudly.

"What makes you think _anyone _wants the Cure?"

"Maybe you should check in with you Salvatore boys." He suggested. I choked on my breath. I had never thought of Damon being human again. Stefan I could picture. And while Damon had never had the same kind of love for time as much as I did, I didn't think he'd hate his existence ever. I always saw I was privileged, as a vampire. I got to watch history being

made. But Damon had no interest in history, not as much as I did.

"That's ridiculous." I said, but my voice came out weak. "Ridiculous." I repeated, clearing my throat.

"Not as much as you'd like to think," Klaus turned away from me and sat on the three seater behind him. I sat across him on the other sofa. "Tell me what you know about the Five."

"Can a vampire lose memories?" It was a mistake to blurt it out, but I had been thinking about it since I got hold of him. He was older than me; he should be able to know about that stuff.

Klaus somehow looked more surprised. "With a witch and certain spells, it's entirely possible." Damn. Always had to be witches. "Are you losing memories?"

"No."

"I'll see if I can find a witch that will get your memories back," Klaus ignored my denial. "The Five?"

"I don't need your help with that." Deals with the devil never go right. "Now, the Five... where do I start?"


End file.
